


No. 30 Ignoring an Injury (Lancelot)

by Onehelluvapilot



Series: Whumptober 2020 [31]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Gen, Hellhounds, Hurt Lancelot (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27282181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Elyan and Lancelot try to protect a house, with two civilians inside from a pack of hellhounds, but the task is only going to get harder with the reveal of an injury Lance had been trying to keep hidden.
Relationships: Elyan & Lancelot (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952440
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	No. 30 Ignoring an Injury (Lancelot)

Elyan and Lancelot had been running around trying to keep the hellhounds at bay for hours now. At least they had enough salt to continually refresh the lines of it; 75 pounds of road salt they'd stolen from a hardware store, to be precise. They needed a lot, given how many different entrances and exits there were in the old Victorian mansion. The hounds' targets, a mother and son, were sequestered in the attic at the very top of the house. Hellhounds couldn't fly, so they'd have to get through several circles of goofer dust to get to them, as well as lines of every iron item that could be found in the house, except for the cast iron pan and fire poker the hunters were using as makeshift weapons. They wouldn't be able to kill the hellhounds, but they were repelled by iron like most supernatural beings, and anyway, killing them wasn't their goal yet. Lancelot had dropped the demon-killing knife when they'd first been beset upon by the hellhounds, and they'd had to leave it behind to get the civilians to safety. Arthur and Merlin were on their way from the bunker to pick it up and bring it to them, and then they could work on actually resolving the situation. For now, the goal was just to stay alive.

The task was getting harder and harder as they began to grow exhausted, Elyan noticed. He found himself unable to get to and renew the salt lines in danger of breaking as quickly, and the 25 pound bag felt like it was getting heavier even as it was gradually being emptied. Lancelot was working on the other side of the house, so they didn't run into each other often, but when they did it seemed like the other hunter was having the same problems. Maybe even worse. He was out of breath when they met to discuss strategy and whether to pull back to a more easily defensible position, before they were rudely interrupted by a hellhound breaking a pipe in the basement to try to wash away the salt there. Both men rushed to slam the door to the stairs, and Lancelot struggled to hold it closed while Elyan laid down a line in front of it. The wood finally stopped straining at the hinges once the layer of protection there was complete, and Lance stumbled away with a wince, nearly collapsing before he caught himself against a bookshelf.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," he insisted before Elyan even questioned it. Clearly, he was lying, since his pinched brows and grimace betrayed the fact that he was in pain and he was struggling to keep his feet. His friend didn't dignify the answer with a response, too busy pulling Lancelot's coat to the side after catching a glance of a dark stain spreading over his undershirt. As he'd feared, it was blood. Already dried to a tacky texture in some places, and there was a lot of it. Whatever the wound was from, it had been there for a while.

"Lance, what the hell?" Elyan demanded, looking around desperately for something to bind the wound with. The fact that he hadn't bled out already was encouraging, but just barely. The hunter's entire right side was stained red. The only reason it hadn't been noticeable earlier was that it was hidden, intentionally, it seemed, beneath his dark jacket. "When did this happen? Why didn't you say anything?"

"There wasn't anything we could do about it. Keeping the civilians safe is more important."

"You damn self-sacrificing fool," Elyan hissed as he grabbed a dishcloth to press to the wound. Lancelot stiffened abruptly, and he wondered whether it was due to the pain or the insult before realizing that he had actually just been startled by his phone beginning to buzz. Keeping one hand pressing the injury, he took and answered the phone when Lance offered it to him.

"How far away are you?" He asked without preamble.

"Probably five minutes?" Merlin replied. "We just picked up the knife. There was blood on the ground around it, by the way. Red blood, not black, so either we're dealing with some freaky hellhound variant or one of you is hurt and didn't say anything about it when you called earlier?"

"It's Lancelot," Elyan quickly replied, glaring at the hunter in question. His expression softened when the injured man brought his own hand up to hold the dish towel against the wound and the movement brought a small gasp and pained flinch. His friend was already paying the consequences of his (admittedly very stupid) choice not to mention his wound, and he couldn't justify punishing him further. "The situation here is bad," he reported to Merlin. "You should hurry."

"We'll be there in two minutes," the secretary promised before hanging up. Elyan didn't doubt him; despite not being a real hunter, Merlin seemed to always come through for them. For Lancelot especially. Speaking of which…

"Do you think you can get yourself upstairs?" He asked.

"No. Well, I mean, I could, but you still need my help here-"

"What I need is to not get murdered by Merlin for letting you get more hurt. It's bad enough that I didn't even notice you were injured." He pressed the fire poker into Lancelot's free left hand. "Go upstairs, look out for the civilians. You'll be our last line of defense."

Lance didn't look happy about this decision, but he nodded and started making his way upstairs, leaning on the fire poker like a cane. Elyan breathed a sigh of relief when he was sure he was out of earshot. Even though it did mean a lot more work until Arthur and Merlin arrived, he was glad the injured hunter was out of harm's way.

There was a shout, a yelp, and a whimper from outside, indicating that Merlin and Arthur had arrived with the demon-killing knife. Between the three of them, taking out the three hellhounds who had been trying to get in was actually easier than expected. Especially since they'd also brought a couple pairs of blessed glasses, so they could actually  _ see _ the beasts. And Merlin, who gave Elyan his own set of spectacles, seemed to be able to tell where they were with great accuracy just by listening. Good hearing, they supposed. 

Lancelot obviously did  _ not _ have good hearing, or else he just hadn't been listening when Elyan told him to go upstairs and stay there, since he was already halfway down the steps when the others started to go up to find him. He was clutching the railing with both hands and Merlin quickly darted forward to brace him as well. 

"Sit down," he ordered, and quickly guided his friend down to the bottom step. Lance submitted to the exam, jaw clenched against the pain as his shirt was peeled carefully away from the wound. Four massive claw marks scored his side and Elyan winced just looking at them. He knew he'd been focused on other things at the time, but how had he missed  _ that _ ?

"Mommy, is he alright?" A child's voice asked and Elyan looked up to the top of the stairs to see the two civilians standing there. He couldn't remember either of their names, though he knew they'd told him; the events of the evening had thoroughly erased them from his mind.

"No, but he will be," Merlin answered as he let the hunter's shirt fall back down after taping a makeshift bandage over it. "Because he was lucky, not because he was smart," he added with a pointed look at the man in question. "I'll stitch it up back at the hotel."

"Thank-oof," Lancelot huffed as a small body rammed into him. The little boy had darted out of his mother's grasp and down the stairs to hug him, and he wasn't careful of the wound. Though it took more effort than it should have, he raised one arm to hug the kid back and then pat him on the back when he wanted to be let go.

"I'm so sorry," the mom apologized, holding onto her son fiercely after pulling him back from Lance. She winced when she looked down and realized he had blood on his hands from hugging the hunter. "So sorry."

"It's okay, really," he insisted, though it was punctuated by a cough and not too convincing. "I'm just glad the two of you are safe." 

The woman admitted that she didn't feel safe in the house after all that had happened, and Arthur agreed to drive them to the same hotel the hunters were already staying at. Elyan drove the other car, with Lancelot and Merlin in the back. Lance, who must've been running on fumes and adrenaline for hours at this point, was finally crashing. He fell asleep against Merlin's shoulder despite the movement of the car and the pain he must've felt going over potholes. It maybe shouldn't have been that surprising, though, that he could ignore the injury so easily. After all, that's what he had already been doing. They'd need to convince him to actually tell them when he was hurt, Elyan decided. Even if there truly was nothing they could do for the injury, which was unlikely, they could look out for each other better if they knew what was going on. They wouldn't argue with him now, though. For the moment, they just let him sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought!


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